


A Time To Be So Small

by bettysdryer



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-27
Updated: 2012-05-27
Packaged: 2017-11-06 02:14:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/413592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bettysdryer/pseuds/bettysdryer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“He’s… well, he’s essentially gone insane. He was in there for quite a while, and the lack of oxygen to his brain killed a significant portion of his brain cells. Even with him, it appears it will take more time to gain the brain cells back, if they can come back at all.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Time To Be So Small

Suffocated - didn’t know how many times - breathe? No, can’t do _that_. Brain‘s crawling out of ears, metaphorically speaking, with maggots, they’ve eaten your clothes, that’s not very good. Sunlight would be nice. Good to dream, good to dream. Maybe Saint Nicholas will dig you out, what a nice fellow, on those Coke bottles. Red - blood, stained with white, white stained with red, and it’ll go back where it came from because that’s how the machinery operates.

Cracks - whiteness? Was it over now? Couldn’t be, too much to wish for, must keep it simple, like two maggots leaving or for his ear to stop itching.

More white. Hallucinating, was what he was doing - wasn’t the first time, he had seen other things, like grateful waterfalls to drink from and fish swimming around in his little birdcage…

Too white -

\--- 

“Mr. Monroe?”

Monroe… one of his aliases; he’d always thought it’d had a sort of dignity to it, he loved stealing from dead historical figures.

“Mr. Monroe? Can you hear me?”

He opened his eyes - funny, he hadn’t known they’d been closed - and there was too much white, still, but he could make out some sort of dark shape.

Too much effort to say anything - useless, anyway - he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

\---

There was some sort of conversation going on. “How has he been progressing?” asked one voice, it sounded vaguely familiar.

“Not very well, I’m afraid,” said another - the one from before, the “Mr. Monroe?” one. “We had prematurely assumed that once he was out in the air again, his cells would begin to regenerate, and although that _has_ happened to some extent… the damage done to his mind might be beyond repair at this point.”

There was a pause. “How do you mean?” asked the first voice.

“He’s… well, he’s essentially gone insane. He was in there for quite a while, and the lack of oxygen to his brain killed a significant portion of his brain cells. Even with him, it appears it will take more time to gain the brain cells back, if they can come back at all.”

“So… he’s a clean slate, you’re saying.”

“No, not exactly. It‘s a bit more complicated than that.”

“Very well. Let me know of any more progress.” Clacking heels left the room, and the blipping of a heart monitor reverberated.

\--- 

Water dribbled into his mouth - blessed water, smooth and lovely - and he hacked on it a bit but he managed to get it down.

“Good,” said the voice, the nice one, with the soothing lilt. “Your body’s almost finished regenerating, Mr. Monroe. You’ll be up and about in no time.”

He opened his eyes a crack - still too white, bright, searing, but he could make out more of the dark shape this time - the outline of curls, the contour of a face.

He tried to say something - didn’t know what he would have said - but he couldn’t; it hurt too much.

“Here. Have some more water,” the voice said, and helpfully poured more of it into his mouth.

It took another few tries, but then he could feel his vocal chords knitting back together, could feel them healing, regenerating, until they were whole again, and _God it felt so good_.

“The maggots,” he rasped.

“The… the maggots?”

“They took my clothes, and they tore them up, you see. They used them in their sacrificial rituals…”

There was a bit of silence, until the voice said, “Perhaps you’ll start making sense in the morning.”

\--- 

Dear God, the _hunger._

He clenched his stomach - pain - he might’ve shouted something; he didn’t know what -

There was a startled shuffling from the corner of the room - scrambling - and some food was placed before him, which he gobbled up instantly.

“Are you okay?” asked the voice, concerned, and he nodded, although he wasn’t. 

“Are you sure?”

He nodded again.

“Very well.” The voice walked away - he looked over, finally, and managed to catch the back of his head before he left the room. It was easier to see now - the man had too many curls, black and silky. 

He laid his head back down and gazed listlessly at his empty plate, at the gray walls and the wheels on the bottom of his gurney. He could escape easily, if he wanted to, but it was nice here, and the man with the soothing voice gave him odd comfort.

He was slowly regaining sense - it couldn’t have been more than two days since he’d gotten here (not that he could tell, really, time had become a sort of illusory thing to him), and his brain didn’t feel quite so curly and crawly and maggot-infested. 

He still had fish hallucinations from time to time, however. There was one waving at him from the doorway, and he turned on his side to ignore it. What a bothersome little pest.

\--- 

“I don’t even understand why we’re keeping him alive.”

“Dr. Suresh - ”

“Do you really think putting him back in a cell is going to stop him? If he tried to release the virus, who knows what else he’s capable of doing?”

“I assure you, we have contingencies. Adam’s going to be locked in a completely isolated cell this time - no one is even going to go near him except for a few select, trusted people… one of which will be you, doctor.”

“ _Me?_ Why?”

“We’re going to need you to monitor his progress, to see if he ever fully regains his memory. Though I must warn you - Adam is _very_ manipulative. If you even suspect for a _second_ that he’s faking his insanity, you tell me right away. Don’t get sucked into his delusions of grandeur. Okay?”

“Of course.”

“Good.”

The fish was smirking. He glared at it.

\--- 

His eyes were fully adjusted now, and he watched this Dr. Suresh periodically walk in the room, check his heart-rate and do other sorts of clinical things, with an idle detached-ness. How long would it be until Dr. Suresh betrayed him - _didn’t_ mercifully kill him, and instead let him rot in another prison cell like the other person wanted (he thought it was Bob, but he couldn’t be sure). 

Although, he wasn’t certain if it was even possible to kill him, short of chopping off his head. Maybe he could even resurrect from that. You could never truly rely on a hypothesis until it was tested, after all…

“How are you feeling?” Suresh asked, as was routine.

“Keep an eye on the maggots,” he replied, as was also routine. “They’ll grow into cockroaches.”

\--- 

“How’s the patient?”

“He’s been improving at a rapid rate. His body has finished regenerating, although I’m not sure his mind has completely healed itself yet. He is speaking more coherently, although what he’s saying is still nonsense. He keeps talking about maggots turning into cockroaches.”

“I don’t trust it. Adam would be just the type to fake insanity in order to garner sympathy, or for some other reason. I say we put him in the isolated cell tomorrow.”

Suresh said nothing, but Adam saw him give a small nod out of the corner of his eye.

 _I wish you would just kill me,_ he thought, but didn’t say, because clearly no one was ever going to allow him just this one small favor.

\--- 

The fish had decided to lay down in the corner and stare at him all day, now that they were both trapped in this isolated cell far from human contact. Except for Suresh, who popped in every once in a while.

For someone who wanted him dead, Suresh seemed oddly concerned about his well-being. He brought him food and asked him how he was and made sure the sheets were changed now and again.

Adam didn’t feel quite sane yet - he never was, he thinks, and he never will be - but he was a little better, and now that he was, he needed to think of some way out of here. It was better than before - of course it was, anything was better than the place that will not be named - but still not enough, too boring, and no one to talk to besides that bloody fish who never talked back to him anyway.

Of course, that’s when the thing decided to say, “You _should_ be here. You’re too dangerous,” and of course the thing sounded exactly like Hiro, and he wanted to throw something at it but there were no throwable objects in the room, so he just glared and turned over on his bed. 

“Mr. Monroe?” The light outside turned on, and Suresh stood in front of the large window, clipboard held faithfully at his side.

“Yes?” He sat up, and ignored the petulant looks Hiro-fish was giving him.

“We need some of your blood,” Suresh said, and he seemed almost apologetic. “Someone has been severely injured on an assignment, and we need your blood to heal them.”

He shrugged. “As though you need my permission. It’s the only reason you’ve kept me alive, isn’t it?”

Suresh pursed his lips. “It would appear so,” he said, as though he disapproved of this, but he kept his opinions to himself and pressed the button to enter the cell. 

“How long has it been, Dr. Suresh?” Adam asked as Suresh took a needle out of his pocket. “How long has it been since I’ve been in here? I’ve lost track of time.”

“Four months,” he said, and looked at Adam’s arm expectantly.

He held it out, and Suresh began the preparations. “Four months. Not too long, then. My mind seems to have slipped away somewhat. Wonder where it is… perhaps it’s only popped out for a bit, and it’s going to come back later. When do you think it will be back, Dr. Suresh?”

“I’m… I’m not sure. It might never return, if it hasn’t fully healed at this point.” He bit his lip, and Adam stared, old desires frothing back to the surface.

“That’s a shame. I rather enjoyed having a semblance of sanity. How does it feel to be sane, doctor? Does it feel good? I wish I could remember.”

Suresh didn’t reply, and began to draw Adam’s blood into the needle. “We’ll be putting this in an IV later.”

“Jolly good.” Adam hummed to himself as Suresh continued to draw the blood, fairies dancing on his brain. “You always ask me how I am. Aren’t you going to ask me how I am?”

“How are you, Mr. Monroe?” Suresh asked obligingly, now done with the needle and pulling away.

“You can call me Adam. And the maggots have left, but the fish is still here.”

“That’s nice,” he said absently. He looked at the large window for no apparent reason, and said, “I should go.”

“Won’t you stay? I do enjoy companionship,” he purred, desires now pouring over the surface. The fish swam further into the corner and closed its eyes. Didn’t want to watch, the prude.

Suresh faltered. “I… no. That’s not a good idea.”

“It would be completely innocent, I assure you.”

“I’m sorry. I have to go.” And he did, the tease, the door clicking shut quietly behind him.

Adam fell back against his pillow, a tad frustrated. The fish snickered at him quietly.

\--- 

God, he _wanted._

He was sure that it was unintentional on Suresh’s part, but with every flick of his eyes, every casual brush of curls out of his face, every mild sigh - it sent him ablaze with _want_ , and no matter how hard he tried, Suresh wouldn’t succumb.

The Hiro-fish tsked at him from the corner (God, even a fish with Hiro’s voice was trying to be his conscience) as he got off with a whimper, and he politely told the fish to go fuck itself. Or him, if it was feeling generous. 

The fish declined, and he felt disappointed, because even fucking a figment of his imagination with Hiro’s voice would have been nearly as good as the real thing. Although the fact that it was a _fish_ would’ve been mildly disturbing, but it was _his_ warped mind that was creating these images and he could turn the fish into whatever he damn well pleased.

He concentrated, trying to turn the fish (oh God, it was a carp, wasn’t it?) into a submitting Hiro-human, but the fish stubbornly continued to remain a fish, and Adam was kind of getting tired of all of this fish nonsense so he started wanking again.

And of course Suresh comes walking in at that precise moment, a completely shocked expression on that pretty face of his.

“Want to join in on the fun?” Adam suggested, looking up, stroking himself faster. The pleasure came through in shockwaves as he watched Suresh watch him - Suresh couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away; his pupils were a little dilated, and dear God it was all making the want even worse - better, even. He moaned loudly, his cock throbbing, his head thrown back, still watching Suresh, who was gulping and seemed to be rooted to the spot.

“Don’t be shy,” Adam said softly.

Suresh clearly wanted to say something - but no noise made its way out of his mouth. He jerked himself closer, almost involuntarily… Adam moaned again and stroked harder, the conflicted look on Suresh’s face making the pleasure shoot through his nerves, almost making him fly into some other plane of existence. 

Suresh seemed out of himself as well. His fingers slowly fumbled at his fly, un-zipping, and he began stroking himself also, and Adam was about ready to explode - which he did, in a sense; he came all over the bedspread with a shout, which made Suresh groan and swallow and his knees buckled a little bit.

“Get over here,” Adam commanded hoarsely, shaking with anticipation.

“I - I can’t,” he gasped.

“Fine.” He stood up, still shaking, and walked over to Suresh, slamming his lips against his, wrapping his fingers around the hand that was stroking Suresh’s cock. 

“I can’t - do this - ” Suresh said brokenly, but Adam shushed him, and rubbed his cock against Suresh’s inner thigh, making him convulse and gasp again, such a pretty sound.

Before long, they were on the bed - shouts - skin sliding against skin, heavy pants and long, drawn out moans, curls tangled in slim fingers and come everywhere - smooth, naked - ecstasy that rose up from _down there_ into chests, releasing itself through cries of _more_ and groans and groans and whimpers.

The fish seemed to have disappeared ( _good riddance, the pest_ ), and Adam fell panting against the pillow when it was all over, Suresh lying next to him, thunderstruck and in disbelief, but pretty disbelief, curls sticking to his face.

“This cannot happen again,” Suresh said.

Adam didn’t answer, just said, “What’s your name?”

Suresh hesitated. “Mohinder,” he said, and Adam smiled.

Getting out of here was going to be a piece of cake.

\--- 

“Tell me, Mohinder,” said Adam when Suresh came back the next day with some food, determinedly not looking at him, “do you ever get the feeling that the Company may not have the best of intentions?”

“I don’t appreciate your attempts to manipulate me, you know,” he said, still not looking at him. 

“I’m not manipulating you. It’s just a simple question.”

Suresh finally looked at him, an angry, pulsating fire in his eyes. “Really? Then why are you asking a question that could easily lead to me doubting whether what the Company is doing is right, which of course works in your favor, and would most likely eventually lead to me siding with you completely and breaking you out of this cell? I know what you did to Peter, and I know what you’re trying to do now. Don’t think that because I had a moment of weakness yesterday means that I’m under your thumb. You deserve to be in here.”

Adam quirked an eyebrow. “I was under the impression that you wanted me dead, doctor.”

“Killing you would be too kind, I think.”

With that, Suresh left, and the air hung heavy in his wake.

\--- 

It wasn’t too much of a loss, really. 

So, he was alone again. It wasn’t the end of the world. How many times had it happened now? Too many to count on two hands and two feet. Alone - yes, alone -

Even the fish was gone now, and the maggots (they turned into cockroaches and ran away), and now Mohinder Suresh was gone too, because he didn’t come by and leave him food anymore, it just arrived mysteriously every time he was hungry (must be a trick of some special that he didn’t know about). It was fine, fine. Adam was used to being alone. He had come to rely on it, it was one of life’s constants. 

It was fine. Fine fine fine fine fine -

He fell into sleep, and even in his empty dreams he was alone, searching, empty.

His brain started crawling and folding into itself again, days passing by unmarked, and he found himself not caring anymore.


End file.
